A Lamp to My Feet
by crhblack
Summary: Green Lantern-John Stewart seeks guidance as he makes the most important choice of his career . Reviews are certainly welcome.
1. The Aftermath

The Aftermath  
  
The green glow crept up from the window sill into the apartment. He glided in on an arc of pure energy. His ring pulsated as he descended lightly onto the living room floor. John Stewart was home. As the aura around his body waned, Stewart surveyed his sparse yet functional efficiency. Everything looked to be in order. Nothing appeared to be missing. The Green Lantern sighed and walked toward the kitchen. Something was indeed missing. No, that something wasn't a piece of furniture or some other appliance. No, that something was a someone.  
  
He opened his refrigerator hoping that he might find solace in that great panacea for troubled hearts and minds: Bob and Terry's berry ice cream. However, no solace was to be gained. Stewart laughed to himself. The Flash must have found his cache and did the only right and natural thing. Well, the next best thing to Bob and Terry's was a large glass of buttermilk. Buttermilk had worked wonders for his stomach while he was a child. His mother would make him drink a glassful every time he complained of an upset tummy.  
  
With his immediate intake need satisfied, the Green Lantern went to check on the scars left from his most recent battle. J'onn pleaded with him to go to the emergency room to have his wounds tended. The Manhunter feared that Stewart could be suffering from a concussion or cracked ribs. Notoriously stubborn, he said he was alright and required no medical attention. Looking into the bathroom mirror, he smirked at the reflection. He had a large gash on the left cheekbone, a fat bottom lip, and a very big knot along the hairline. He lifted his tunic to check his ribs. A large purple and blue welt seemed to dance with his every breath. Stewart nodded in approval. Boot camp in the Marines had left far worse damage than this. Yet, he couldn't help but notice the deep sorrow in his eyes. He glanced down at his right hand. How often had the ring protected him from major catastrophe and even death? Too many too count for certain, but despite its great power, the ring proved powerless to protect him from wounds of the spirit.  
  
After a long shower and dressing his wounds as best he could, the exhausted hero flopped into his bed. He checked the alarm clock. Only 10:00! The day seemed to drag on forever. He looked at the clock again. He viewed it not for the time but for the object under it. It was a book. Stewart instinctively reached for it, but at the last moment hesitated.  
  
"It's too close. It's just too close. It hurts too much," he whispered as set the book back in place.  
  
He reached for the remote. Perhaps the idiot box would provide him with some well needed escape. He leaned back against the headboard and saw pictures that made him wince in pain.  
  
"This is Snapper Carr reporting. The band of super beings commonly called the Justice League have once again saved our planet! Details are sketchy at the moment, but we have confirmed that the invading force from Tha....."  
  
Stewart clicked the remote. He was in no mood to rehash the events of the past several days. He knew that he and his friends would be hailed as saviors and heroes of the greatest magnitude. Big flaming deal! So they had driven out a deadly invasion force. So they had liberated millions. So they had saved thousands of lives. So what? Did that stop the cruelest blow of all?  
  
He rolled over and reached for the light. He saw the book again. He stared at it for a view moments. It was a book all about love and that was the last thing he wanted to think about. Click. 


	2. Not So Pleasant Dreams

Sleep entered John Stewart's room like some happy fingered 3 year old doing her first finger painting. Images and sounds filled his mind to form a cacophony of dreams that caused him to toss and turn. But the most chilling aspect to all of the nightmarish shades proved to be the small whisper that filtered through everything. Over and over again the small quiet voice called a singular refrain. Three simple words were the chorus. Three words that people so casually threw about without truly realizing the ecstasy and torment they brought.  
  
In his mind, John Stewart tried to plug his hears. First, he used his fingers and hands. No good. He then looked at his right hand and concentrated on the ring. Perhaps the ring's formidable force field would block out the sound. No success. The refrain kept resounding in his ears. Although no louder than a secret admirer's quiet overtures spoken in the most intimate of moment's, the voice seemed to be yelling at him like a blast from a ship's foghorn Three simple words. Three bloody simple words.  
  
Suddenly, the mists separated and the whisper grew fainter. Still dressed in his Green Lantern uniform, Stewart realized that he was looking up. Then he watched as a disturbingly familiar face formed. He shouted and cried. But the words didn't form a recognizable language.  
  
The face's rounded features broke into a gentle and caring smile. The eyes, a deep pool of pure chocolate, looked on him with such caring. The lips, a perfect mocha almond blend, sang with such beauty that the birds listened for their musical notes. He even smelled the unique perfume that left the imprint of the finest rose garden in one's nose.  
  
"How's my little man, hmm? I have such great high hopes for you, John. You are going to make me so proud!"  
  
He felt her pick him up. The hands, delicate and smooth, caressed him and lifted him into a warm embrace. Despite himself, the Green Lantern sighed and relaxed at the touch. He felt the strong, yet soothing strokes of her hands on his back as he rocked him. Only one person made him feel so safe and secure. His heart sank. He knew that this couldn't be real.  
  
Everything started with that small lump she felt while showering. She didn't pay it any mind. As time passed, she noticed that her energy level had mysteriously dropped. She went to the clinic. The doctor gave her six months. His head barely cleared the rail around her bed. Her room possessed an eerie calmness. The only noise to be heard were the intermittent beeps from the monitors next to her bed.  
  
"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. John, promise me that you will always make me proud. You are my hope and joy."  
  
The voice barely carried her hoarse tones to his ears. The rounded face now was ghastly gaunt. Those smooth gentle hands were gnarled and nothing more than skin over bone. Still dressed in uniform, he looked into her eyes. They were still a deep chocolate pool, but they now looked through him as though glaring into a world beyond this plane.  
  
"I promise," his voice cracked as much from the transition from childhood to manhood as from emotion.  
  
"John, please don't ever forget that God loves you. And, baby, I lo..."  
  
Beeeeeeeeeep.  
  
"Momma! Momma! Mommaaaaaa!!"  
  
He jerked straight up in his bed. The light from the street lamp highlighted the nightstand. He glanced over at the book again. For the second time in his adult life, John Stewart would cry. 


	3. A Visit from an Old Friend

As she soared through the clouds, her mind reminisced about the time she spent with him here. They were joyous times indeed. They were alike in so many ways: full of life, dedicated to duty and honor, incredibly stubborn. Her lips pressed into a sly smile. Perhaps just perhaps...  
  
She saw the window open. She shook her head. He had not changed a bit. How many times had she scolded him about security? It was time for another lesson.  
  
She slipped quietly into the apartment. Stewart, busy preparing breakfast, didn't notice her entrance. She focused on the plate of food on the table and an emerald beam of energy shot from her hand bringing the plate to her.  
  
"I see you still make a great omelet."  
  
Taken by surprise, he whirled around dropping the rest of the eggs on the floor. He stood there mouth agape unsure of what to say.  
  
"T-t-thanks," he finally stammered.  
  
"Aren't you getting a late start? I thought you would be out with the rest of your friends helping with the clean up."  
  
"So you know about the invasion."  
  
"Yes. The Guardians sent me here to offer the Corps assistance."  
  
"I appreciate the Guardians offer, but I think we can manage."  
  
Katma Tui swiveled her head taking in the atmosphere. The apartment was a mess. Clothes laid strewn everywhere. The bed unmade. The wastebasket overflowed with the evidence of his junk food binge. The man himself looked even worse. His eyes were completely bloodshot. His face was a haggard mess of unshaven growth and weariness. Most notable proved to be the absence of the ring from his finger.  
  
"Where's your ring?"  
  
"I took it off to shower and dress my wounds. It's in the charger. I forgot about it."  
  
She glided across the room and sat at the kitchen table. She had never seen him like this. They stared at each other trying to see which one would lead the other through the awkward maze of communication. With a gentleness she almost forgot she possessed, she broke the silence.  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
Stewart closed his eyes. His jaw clenched and his hand slowly folded into a fist. He wanted to maintain control. He wanted to explode like a dying star, spewing its matter across the cosmos. He sat down across from her. With extreme effort, he released his lips and spoke in a whisper. His voice steeped in sadness and resignation.  
  
"They had inside information, Kat. All the world's defensive capabilities and tactical systems. Plus, they had measures to counter our super- powers."  
  
"Who would provide them with that kind of intelligence? Who would sell-out the Earth like that?  
  
The Green Lantern dropped his head into his chest, shaking it slightly.  
  
Katma's eyes grew wide as she put the 2 and 2 together. No wonder the man was in shambles.  
  
"I warned you didn't I?"  
  
Stewart remained silent.  
  
"Didn't I tell you? I told you not to trust that little ..."  
  
"That's enough, Kat!"  
  
"Enough of what? The truth? It's about time that you faced the truth!"  
  
"Stop, Kat!"  
  
"Why, so you can continue to live in that little fantasy realm of you two being together? I got news for you, honey, it's not gonna happen!"  
  
"Please, Katma..."  
  
"The John Stewart I trained, the John Stewart I fought beside, the John Stewart I ..."  
  
She got up from her chair and moved to kneel beside him. She took his face in her hand and looked into his sagging countenance. Despite his present condition, she couldn't put away all they had shared together.  
  
"The John Stewart I cared for and still care for would never allow himself to be crushed. The John Stewart I know is too stubborn to wallow away in self-doubt or self-pity." She stroked his rough stubble. She felt the muscles in his jaw contract and release. She knew that he was fighting a war within himself. Perhaps she could offer him the comfort and joy he so desperately needed.  
  
"John, I want you to come back with me to Oa."  
  
He was surprised by the softness of her request. Although all woman, Katma Tui never let her femininity stand in the way of her role as a Green Lantern.  
  
"Oa?"  
  
"Yes, I think the change of scenery would be good for you. I've taken over the Lantern Corps Academy, and I need instructors I can trust. Ones who will do things the right way." She winked at him. "Instructors who will do things my way!"  
  
His eyes met hers.  
  
"Besides this would be a great opportunity for you to rekindle your love for architecture. How long has it been since you've done any drawings?"  
  
He didn't respond.  
  
"I thought so. The Guardians agreed to build a new training facility, so I guessed that you might be interested in submitting a draft or two."  
  
Katma stood up and took Stewart by the hand over to the window.  
  
"Look down there. See those people? They know that their neighbor is a superhero. They know that he is the Green Lantern. They know that he can fly and fire lasers from his ring..."  
  
He studied their faces. He recognized them, but he knew nothing about them. It seemed that they were the ones with the secret identities. He laughed in his mind at the irony. He intentionally chose not to wear a mask, and now the very people whom he considered to be the vital link to his past, present, and future, were the ones with the masks.  
  
"... but do they know anything about John Stewart. Yes, they know that John Stewart is the Green Lantern, but do they know JOHN STEWART?"  
  
Stewart looked down again and sighed. "You know, Kat, I've wondered that myself. I chose to come back here after joining the Lantern Corps, but am I only fooling myself into believing that everything would be the same as when I left?"  
  
"I know someone who knows the real John Stewart." She took his hands in hers. "And she knows that this place is not where he belongs."  
  
Stewart looked out the window again.  
  
"I have to go make a report to the Guardians of what I saw and make a few plans for the next training class. I'll be back in a few days. Oh and I like the mustache and beard." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "And, John, I hope your love for architecture won't be the only thing that is rekindled." A green glow surrounded her body, and she streaked out the window.  
  
John Stewart turned back toward his disassembled dwelling. He saw the book laying on the nightstand. He walked over to it and picked it up. The lettering on the spine had faded, but the outline of the letters still shouted its simple but powerful title. Momma always said that true love flowed out of its pages. He started to open the cover, but stopped when he saw the pictures inside.  
  
A/N: REVIEWS AND COMMENTS ARE MORE THAN WELCOMED!! 


	4. Me and Mr McGee

Al McGee took a deep breath as he walked to John Stewart's door. He scratched his silver mane and thought about the man behind the door. He regarded Stewart much like a surrogate son. He smiled beneath his wiry mustache as memories of the gawky, troubled teen flooded his mind.  
  
How many times did he go down to the principal's office to advocate on his student's behalf? It seemed that the young man and Principal Jones were on a first name basis since Stewart spent a large portion of his day with her. Although Jones suffered no disruption to her well ordered campus, she would patiently listen to McGee extol the renegade youth's more positive side. She knew the terrible tragedy that had befallen the man-child, but also the heroic qualities just waiting to be honed. Sighing, she would turn Stewart into McGee's custody with a stern warning that continued misbehavior would result in severe disciplinary action.  
  
His reverie finished, the older man's weathered black hand rapped on the door. No answer. McGee knew the other side of John Stewart's life. He paused to consider whether he should try again. Perhaps it was a foolish notion to ask a superhero to condescend to such mundane matters. However, McGee comforted himself in the fact that he knew John Stewart the man and not just John Stewart the Green Lantern. He knocked again. No answer. He knocked with more force. His persistence proved fruitful.  
  
A weary bass voice called out, "Who is it?"  
  
"John, it's me. McGee. Al McGee."  
  
"Mr. McGee? Hold on for a sec."  
  
The second turned into a full minute before the door creaked open. A tired but friendly smile greeted the old man.  
  
"Mr. McGee. I'm surprised. Come on in and forgive the mess."  
  
"No problem. Thanks for letting me in."  
  
The former teacher gasped a little as he viewed the mess in John Stewart's apartment. McGee remembered that Stewart always prided himself on his personal hygiene and attention to neatness and detail. What could have happened to cause this drastic change?  
  
"What brings you to this side of the street, Mr. McGee?"  
  
"I saw you on the news, John. Looks like you and your friends had a tough time with those aliens. I just wanted to check and see if everything's okay."  
  
"It was nothing," Stewart shrugged. "We fought and we won. Everybody's happy."  
  
"Yeah, I read where the United Nations will be awarding the Justice League a special honor."  
  
"Oh... great." Stewart managed a wan smile.  
  
"John, are you sure you're okay? I don't mean to intrude, but I think I know you pretty well. Something's eating at you."  
  
"It's just a little fatigue from all the fighting."  
  
"You sure? Remember, John, I'm more than just your old high school history teacher. I'm also your friend."  
  
"I know. I know, Mr. McGee." He sighed. "Just tired that's all."  
  
"John, can I sit down for a second?"  
  
Stewart slapped his head. "Uh, I'm sorry Mr. McGee! Let me clear this junk off the couch."  
  
He tossed the old pizza boxes and empty microwave pop corn bags to kitchen. He then cleared the discarded Bob and Terry's cartons from the table. The buttermilk cartons received better treatment as they were put back in the refrigerator.  
  
McGee's wiry mustache stretched into a thin smile across his lips. "Still drinking buttermilk after all these years?"  
  
"Huh? Uh, yeah, ha ha. Some habits are more difficult to break than others."  
  
"Uh huh. I can still recall how I would have to take you to the store for some after your heart to heart chats with Mrs. Jones."  
  
"Whew! Now that was some tough lady. She got me ready for the Marines. After 3 years with her, boot camp was like a day at the park. How is the old battle ax?  
  
McGee rolled with laughter. "Still as cantankerous as ever even at 80!! She still remembers you quite well."  
  
Stewart imitated Mrs Jones' high, stern voice, "'McGee, you tell that Stewart boy to stay out of trouble. His momma would just have a fit if she saw the trouble John gets into. He's so smart but so undisciplined!'"  
  
"Well, I had the JOYOUS task of making sure you weren't going to be suspended. I think I needed the buttermilk even more than you."  
  
"Momma was right though. The buttermilk helped."  
  
"Does it still help, John?"  
  
Stewart's eyes narrowed. He walked over to the lampstand and picked up the book. He fingered the cover as he caressed its well worn smoothness. Unconsciously, he opened the book and felt for the special object within. He breathed in deeply as he felt the cool surface of his most beloved possession. At the same time, he also felt the that same sensation of the other object within. He frowned and closed the book.  
  
"You miss her don't you?"  
  
"I miss her more everyday."  
  
"I'm not sure we're talking about the same person, John."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"On the news, I noticed that one of your teammates was missing. I also saw that same look of loss you had when your mother..."  
  
"Don't believe everything you see on television."  
  
"John, I regard you like my own son. I can tell when you're hurting. You can't hide it from me. It's in your demeanor. Your apartment is a reflection of the mess you got going on inside you."  
  
"I told you. I'm just tired."  
  
"John, I won't argue with you. But I do have one request: I would like you to meet me tomorrow night over on Lennox Avenue."  
  
"Lennox Avenue? Why? What's happening?"  
  
"Well, during the invasion, our building was destroyed..."  
  
"No! Not the ch..."  
  
"I'm afraid so, son."  
  
The Green Lantern's eyes glared out the window. Lennox Avenue held such special memories. His mind's eye saw the small red brick building with the bright white doors and the high steeple. The bright colored hats and dark suits complemented the smiles and hugs that flowed naturally from the people wearing them.  
  
"That place was as much home for me as Uncle James' house."  
  
"I know how busy you are, but I thought you would like to know."  
  
"Anybody hurt?"  
  
"Thank the Lord no. We're going to meet at 7:00. Everyone will be glad to see you."  
  
Stewart turned to look at the wizened face of his former teacher. It had been a couple of years since he visited that place. He glanced back at the book. Momma made sure he brought it with him when they went to their "second home." Perhaps it was time for him to finally deal with all that had transpired, and perhaps the site on Lennox Avenue would be the place to do it.  
  
"Okay, Mr. McGee. I'll see you there." 


	5. The Meeting

The Justice League's new meeting room possessed all the trappings of the most exclusive Fortune 500 board rooms. The latest in digital video conferencing as well as a fully stocked refrigerator evidenced how the rich and powerful could spend hours making decisions that would decide that fates of corporations and governments. Despite these accoutrements, his missed their old meeting place. He missed the slight exhilaration of flying from his apartment to the Watch Tower. There was always something serene about celestial space. No other place offered the chance to see creation at its most primal and majestic glory. The trip renewed his spirit especially when he met a certain ...  
  
"Hey, GL," a goofy face zoomed into his view. "Miss me?"  
  
"Like a root canal," came the tired response.  
  
Flash's face fell like a 5 year old's when he couldn't have ice cream before dinner. "Come on, Johnny, you know ya missed me! Where ya been hidin' yourself?" Without waiting for a response, Flash zipped over to the door just as Wonder Woman walked into the room.  
  
"Hey, Princess, how would you like a triple mocha frap for two?"  
  
Diana giggled, "I would love one!"  
  
"Good why dontcha whip one up for us?" Flash then flopped into one of the luxurious leather reclining chairs surrounding the brilliantly polished mahogany table.  
  
Diana shook her head. "Men. You really are just boys in bigger bodies." She looked around the room and spotted the Green Lantern. "John?"  
  
Stewart didn't turn his gaze from the bay window over looking the teeming streets below, "Hello, Wonder Woman."  
  
Diana walked over to her teammate and touched his shoulder. She noticed the new facial hair, gaunt appearance, and civilian attire. "John..."  
  
"It's pretty ironic huh, Wonder Woman? Meeting in here of all places."  
  
"Yes, who would have thought that the Justice League would be welcomed in LexCorp headquarters."  
  
"I bet old Lex had a heart attack," Green Lantern whispered.  
  
Diana laughed softly, "True. Mercy Graves is a very savvy business woman. By advertising this place as "Justice League World Headquarters" she erased any doubts about LexCorp's innocence about collaborating with..." Her voice trailed off as she saw Stewart's head drop slightly. "Lantern? John?"  
  
She lifted his head and turned his face toward hers. Her eyes scoured every inch of his countenance. Much to her amazement, Stewart seemed older, although a week had barely passed since the destruction of the Watch Tower. She noted how a few gray hairs sprouted among the black like brown weeds in a green lawn. She moved up his face and saw the same gray at his temples. But her review froze at his eyes. They no longer shined with the characteristic emerald green. Instead she saw pools of deep chocolate that formed wells of a lost hope.  
  
Almost instinctively, she reached to grasp the Lantern's hand. Her fingers, searching for the power talisman, found only the dull warmth of flesh and blood. Slowly, Diana closed her hands around his. She gave the slightest nod of the head as if to say, "I understand."  
  
Lantern quickly downcast his eyes. He didn't want to add to the burden of the others. Although, his teammates offered support on the outside, he knew deep down that they didn't regard him with the same level of trust. How could he be so gullible, so trusting, so unprofessional, so much a ROOKIE?  
  
He broke Wonder Woman's grasp as the rest of the League took their remaining spots around the table. He sat down and quickly opened his meeting agenda. He glanced quickly at each of the faces seated. Without making direct eye contact, Stewart tried to ascertain what each member was thinking.  
  
Flash doodled pictures of himself rescuing some damsel in distress while bashing some villain into submission. He made a silly face at Lantern. At least, the innocence of his immaturity seemed to be genuine.  
  
The Manhunter's face remained the epitome of serenity and peace. Lantern felt a little unnerved by this calmness. Whenever the alien nodded, Lantern cringed on the inside. Was J'onn reading his thoughts or was he just giving acknowledgment of the statement just made?  
  
Wonder Woman fidgeted in her seat. She looked longingly at Batman as if pleading for him to comfort her during this crisis period. When he didn't blink, she lowered her head and let out an almost inaudible sniff. She turned her attention to Lantern and gave him a warm but half-hearted smile. He nodded slightly at her.  
  
Superman conducted the meeting just as he had all the others. The Kryptonian stood as the ultimate boy scout. It was unacceptable to him for the people of the Earth not to trust their protectors. He explained how he had worked tirelessly to gain the trust of his adopted home world. He called on each member to re-double their efforts to reassure the public that the danger of the invasion has passed. Superman's cast he gaze around the table to each member as a way to reinforce the directive. To the Lantern, the gaze lingered on him longer than anyone else. Superman then moved on to the rest of the agenda.  
  
Batman sat he always did. He glared at Superman whenever the Man of Steel made a request that seemed too idealistic or infantile in his eyesight. He said nothing until the end of the meeting.  
  
"I believe that you have something that you want to address, Lantern."  
  
"So, at long last, their true feelings would be revealed." Lantern grimly frowned. He slowly rose from his seat. He fixed his stare directly at the Bat. To the naked eye, the two men were merely being rude, but the two principles understood this to be the ultimate battle for self-discipline. Neither man changed expression for a full minute. The other members sat transfixed at the spectacle except for the Martian. A small smile drew itself across his stoic face.  
  
Finally, Batman broke the roaring silence, "Do you have something to say, John?"  
  
"Yes, I do. I'm requesting an indefinite leave of absence to begin immediately," he said flatly.  
  
"Huh?" Flash sat up. "Say that again."  
  
"He asked for a leave of absence, Flash," Batman responded calling the Speedster an idiot with his tone.  
  
"GL, you gotta be kidding. I mean ya can't leave now. We got so much clean up to do."  
  
"You all have everything under control."  
  
"True, we aren't having major headaches, but this is rather sudden, John. May we ask why?" Superman inquired.  
  
"I have saved all my vacation time, and now I think would be the perfect time to take it."  
  
"That's not all is it, Lantern?" Batman coolly asked.  
  
The Green Lantern's expression didn't change "That is reason enough. But since some of you won't be satisfied with that, I'll tell you. I'm considering leaving Earth for Oa. For good."  
  
"Huh?" Flash's jaw dropped.  
  
"John, I thought you and the rest of the Lantern Corps weren't exactly on the friendliest of terms," Wonder Woman spoke.  
  
"Katma Tui has taken over the Lantern Training Academy. She's asked me to become one of her instructors."  
  
"That puts a new spin on 'teacher's pet', huh John-Boy," Flash cat called.  
  
Diana shot Flash a death glance. "John, I know you have some...history with Katma but are you sure about this? I mean, isn't it a bit soon? I mean after all you shared with..." Diana bowed her head.  
  
"Thanks for your concern, Wonder Woman, but I think a change of scenery just might be the ticket for me at this time."  
  
Superman stood up. "John, you do have the leave time accumulated. Although, we will miss your presence, I can't see any objections to granting your request. Anyone else?"  
  
Hearing none, Superman wished Lantern a safe journey and adjourned the meeting. Batman slipped silently out, and Flash slapped Lantern on the back and reminded him to send him the names, numbers, and pictures of the hottest babes to join the Lantern Corps. Superman went to visit Mercy Graves regarding rent for the facilities.  
  
Diana embraced the Lantern. "John, I know you're hurting. But don't give up hope! Katma is no substitute for..."  
  
Lantern cut her off. "I know what I'm doing, Wonder Woman." Then he saw the wetness in her eyes. He hugged her closer "Thanks, Diana, you really are a WONDER WOMAN. I just hope that cold-hearted, cowled idiot figures that out before too long."  
  
Diana smiled. "Thanks, Lantern. Be safe!"  
  
Lantern watched Wonder Woman exit the room. He sighed and started for the exit himself. He lost himself in preparing for his trip when a deep voice snapped into his consciousness.  
  
"Lantern, we need to talk." 


	6. What's 6ft 7in and green?

The Lantern slowly turned to see the calm face of J'onn Jonz still seated at the meeting table. The Martian had not said one word during the entire meeting. What necessitated a private meeting at this juncture? Had his teammate read his mind?  
  
Jonz's large orange eyes flashed briefly. "Sit down, Lantern. We need to talk before you embark upon your journey."  
  
Lantern slumped into his chair. He never took his eyes off the Martian. Although they had fought many missions together, neither one would call the other his life-long buddy. Many times Jonz stitched, patched, and bandaged wounds that the Lantern had suffered in a fight in the Watch Tower's infirmary. Their discussion always centered around what happened during the mission or around the prescribed treatment for the injuries. There was no battle, nor were they in the infirmary.  
  
After a brief but awkward silence, "Have you been taking care of yourself" came Jonz's monotone. "How are the ribs?"  
  
"They feel fine. It was really nothing." Stewart laughed. "In boot camp, I can remember cracking a couple of 'em while..."  
  
The Martian interrupted. "You obviously have not been eating satisfactorily. Your appearance is gaunt. Come with me please."  
  
Lantern raised a surprised eyebrow. "What? Wh-where are we going?"  
  
"Though the medical facilities in the building are primitive compared to the ones of the Watch Tower, I can still perform a physical exam to certify you fit for your journey."  
  
The emergency room at LexCorp headquarters was small and sparse. The whole complex barely measured a third of the space at the Watch Tower, but it wasn't designed to repair the injuries of superheroes. Fortunately, J'onn salvaged several pieces of equipment from the Watch Tower. Plus the League still had their portable med-packs.  
  
Lantern sat on the exam table. The Manhunter lifted his shirt and examined his ribcage. He twinged just slightly as J'onn touched the most sensitive area. An almost imperceptible frown furrowed across the Martian's lips. J'onn brought out his stethoscope.  
  
"Breath deeply, Lantern."  
  
After listening to Lantern's lungs, J'onn returned the stethoscope and reached for his small penlight. He examined Lantern's ears and had him say the traditional "aaahhh" as he looked down his teammate's throat.  
  
"You appear to be in nominal physical condition, Lantern. Your weight is below normal but within acceptable limits. You appear to have no breathing problems, but I would be careful not to over stretch. Your ribs probably have a hairline fracture but I don't have an X-ray machine to confirm."  
  
"So, I get a clean bill to travel Oa?"  
  
"Yes, however, I would advise against it."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"Physically, I see no difficulties..."  
  
"So what's the problem?" Stewart hopped down from the exam table and replaced his shirt. "Look, if this is some ploy to keep me from resigning from the League..."  
  
"No. I would not resort to that type of guile. In my opinion, going to Oa and Katma Tui will not solve your real issue."  
  
Lantern's eyes narrowed. He growled, "Oh, and what exactly is my "REAL issue? Have you been inside my head, looking around?"  
  
Stewart could almost detect a hint of sadness in J'onn Jonz's solid orange eye bulbs. "No, I am disappointed that you would think me capable of betraying a friend's trust..."  
  
"Yeah, well, betrayal and I are some real close friends these days."  
  
Much to his amazement, the Martian reached out and touched his shoulder. "Lantern, you must forgive. Forgive our teammate, and most importantly, forgive yourself."  
  
Stewart's jaw tightened. The hairs of his beard stood at attention. He stopped breathing to compose himself. "Forgive, huh? It all sounds so easy. I don't have anything to forgive anyone about. A choice was made. Simple as that."  
  
"Yet, you feel responsibility for that choice."  
  
"Aren't I responsible? I'm the ONE who let my guard down. I'm the ONE that acted like a rookie! Like some teenager who had never been on a date! I'm the ONE who let her get too close!!" He hung his head. "I'm the one who made her choose between us and them."  
  
"Lantern... John... she made the choice she felt was best. Remember, my friend, no one forced her to leave. Eventhough I was unable to read her thoughts, I don't have to be a telepath to know that her feelings were true."  
  
The Green Lantern shook his head. "I've been having nightmares every night since. It's all still too close. Katma's offer to go to Oa gives me the chance to clear my head. Do somethings I haven't done in quite a while." He chuckled. "I might even draw up plans for a new Watch Tower for you guys. I'll even give you a discount rate!"  
  
Jonz's eyes glowed a cool amber. "Lantern, you can try to run from your problems. You can even try to run from your memories and emotions. Believe me. I've tried. But you can't run from the truth. And the truth is that you still care very much for..."  
  
"My mind's made up, Manhunter. I'm going to Oa. If you're finished with your examination, I need to complete the necessary paperwork and start packing." 


	7. On the Wings of Love

John Stewart surveyed his apartment. In only a couple of days, this place would be nothing more than a memory. He had started the arduous process of setting his affairs in order. He had already informed his land lady that he would be leaving for an extended period of time, even longer than normal. Mail delivery was re-routed to the new League headquarters although he couldn't fathom why he did that. He had no intention of coming back. Stewart shook his head as he laid down for the night.  
  
Katma left a message saying that she wouldn't be able to leave Oa to accompany him on the journey. The Guardians needed her to start her duties right away. Nevertheless, she waited with great anticipation for his arrival. She had planned much for them to do, both professionally and unprofessionally. Stewart lips upturned into a half-smirk. Katma never was shy about her intentions.  
  
Only one duty remained: his promise to Mr. McGee. He grimaced. Saying good-bye to him would be the most difficult task left to do. If he could point to one good thing about his adolescence, it would be Mr. McGee. Al McGee was more than a teacher. He was more than a friend. In short, Al McGee was his father. Once Stewart left him, the ties with his roots would be severed.  
  
As he reached over to click off the light, his eyes fell upon the book again. This time he picked it up and opened the cover revealing his most personal possessions. His fist gripped the metal keepsake. He recalled the day she gave it him. A sad smile crossed his face. He gently placed the shiny heirloom back in the book. His sight next focused on a small photograph. The faces of the man and woman on it radiated the joyful bliss of finding the person who made him/her complete. His finger traced the outline of the woman's face. Even now her eyes seemed to look through him and into the deepest part of his being. As he closed the cover, he noticed a scribbled set of numbers that had faded to a shadow. 119:105.  
  
Sleep proved to be the most elusive of friends to the Green Lantern. Each night, shades and colors coalesced behind his shut eyelids. These images distorted into horribly familiar shapes and sounds. Tonight would be no different.  
  
Even as he tossed and turned, he heard voices. Voices that spoke three words that terrified him to the core. Words that were supposed to bring the greatest sensation of happiness and belonging. Words uttered to only the most cherished of persons. For John Stewart, these three one syllable utterances brought only misery.  
  
The first voice he recognized even in the tossed and turned dream state. The other voice was familiarly strange. It comforted and frightened at the same time. It wasn't male or female. It was just a voice, and it beckoned him forward.  
  
The Green Lantern stood on a tall peak. The air surrounding him frosted as he breathed. The sun's bright light created looming shadows from the adjoining peaks. His ears pricked as he heard those two tones, so sweet and so painful.  
  
"John, I love you," voice one called.  
  
"John, I love you," echoed voice two.  
  
Lantern whirled in the direction of the voices and moved his gaze upward. On a higher peak, he saw a lone figure. Instantly, he took off toward her. He no longer questioned why his dreams always had him in uniform. He merely accepted.  
  
"John, I love you," the second voice sounded from behind the first one. He searched but could not find its source.  
  
As he got closer to the female form, a giant shriek split the sky. The sheer decibel level of the cry drowned out all other noise. The shriek thundered again and from behind the woman, out of the shadows, strode a giant bird like creature. Its head was covered in what appeared to be a helmet comprised of snow white feathers. Its breast produced a crisscross of golden metal straps. The straps were held together at the midpoint by a hauberk of chain mesh. Etched on the hauberk, the Lantern could make out the outline of a hawk's head. Iron talons scratched the stone peak with each step.  
  
The Lantern froze in horrific dread as the great bird opened its beak. Dagger like teeth, six-inches in length, extended from the edges of its orifice. The raptor's steel blue eyes locked upon the Lantern. Its beak opened to fashion a wicked sneer. It shrieked again as its giant wings unfurled around the woman on the peak. The challenge was issued.  
  
"Keep away from her!" Lantern shouted. "Hang on, Momma! Hang on! I'll save you!!"  
  
The giant hawk seemed to laugh as the Lantern furiously drove forward. It spread its wings to their full extent. They stretched at least 50 feet in length. With one great swoop of those wings, the great bird took to the sky. As it rose, its talons encircled the woman.  
  
"No! Momma! I'm coming! I'll save you! I'll save you!"  
  
He concentrated with all his effort. A bolt of eldritch emerald energy emitted from his ring. The laser struck the hawk full force, but simply bounced off the chain mesh chest plate. It cawed a mocking cry at the Lantern. Again and again he fired at his avian nightmare with same hapless results.  
  
"John, I love you," she called to him as the hawk flew away from him.  
  
"No!! Don't leave me! Momma! Please don't go! Not again! Not again!" Lantern flew as fast as he could toward the rapidly fading pair. Tears flowed down his face.  
  
Out of nowhere, he spotted another flying figure zooming across the sky. This one looked just like the giant hawk except that it's head was covered in a golden helmet and it was so much smaller.  
  
The smaller raptor turned its head toward the Lantern. It's green eyes seemed to pierce his very soul. Surprisingly, it beak formed what he thought was a gentle smile. Turning its head back, the bird flew straight for the giant hawk.  
  
John Stewart could only stare in awe as the winged pair flew directly into the fiery sun. The diminutive hawk's screeched at its larger likeness. Its voice barely audible above the din of the giant's wing beats. The little bird flew above the giant aviator raking the wings with its talons. The great hawk roared in pain as the smaller bird of prey repeated its assault. Suddenly, a giant flash of light erupted from the sun. The two hawks and Stewart's mother were completely engulfed. The Green Lantern shielded his eyes.  
  
As the flare died down, he viewed two hands reaching out of the sun. The hands' fingers curled together making the "come" gesture. Once again he heard a voice calling. It wasn't his mother's voice, but rather that other voice.  
  
"I love you, John. I love you."  
  
A stinging wetness awakened John Stewart. He reached over and grabbed the book. The light from the street illuminated his room just enough for him to read the inscription on the golden heirloom:  
  
"To my little hero, I love you! Mother"  
  
He turned over the photograph and read the handwritten text:  
  
"For my big, strong hero, I love you!"  
  
He would spend the rest of the night clutching the book to his chest as a river of water streamed down his face. 


	8. Precious Lord

PRECIOUS LORD  
  
The sky matched John Stewart's mood. After a night of soul searching and reflection, the new day greeted him with a somber countenance. Gray clouds mocked him as he walked his neighborhood for what could very well be the last time. Instead of pouring out a cleansing rain, they instead dripped precipitation on him like a child's runny nose. The atmosphere reflected the dour expressions that met him on his walk. Lennox Avenue was only 10 blocks from his apartment. On a normal day, those blocks strolled by in one large blur. This evening, however, each block stretched for miles.  
  
From a distance he saw the havoc inflicted upon the venerable old red brick building. It's southern wall gaped a large hole. The roof caved in at the mid-section. All the windows broke out in a jagged mosaic of colored glass. Stewart's heart sank in chest as he viewed the wreckage. How many times had coming to this place uplifted his spirit, especially the difficult days following the funeral? No matter how terrible the week had been, he would find refuge inside the red structure. Sure, its seats were worn and the floor creaked like an old man's bones, but no other place offered the chance to wipe clean the slate of the previous week's trials and tribulations.  
  
As he moved farther down the sidewalk, his ears picked up the sounds of people singing and clapping. He could not help but grin. The pounding bass line and snappy snare beats created a rhythm for his last few steps. A large green tent had been erected to serve as a temporary sanctuary for the members of New Salem Baptist Church. Stewart instantly recognized the reason for the commotion. Pastor Sterling's dynamic baritone rang out as he lead the congregation through the opening praise:  
  
Hold to His hand, God's unchanging hand  
Build Your hopes on things eternal  
Hold to God's unchanging hand  
  
Trust in Him who will not leave you  
What so ever years may bring  
If by earthly friends forsaken  
Still, more closely to Him cling  
  
Hold to His hand, God's unchanging hand  
Build Your hopes on things eternal  
Hold to God's unchanging hand  
  
Stewart saw Al McGee sitting in his customary seat in the second row just to the right of the pulpit. McGee's face lit up as he saw the strapping male he helped mentor into manhood take a seat by him.  
  
McGee grasped Stewart's hand heartily. "I'm so thankful you made it, John. As you can see, the old place is in shambles."  
  
Stewart's jaw tightened. The invasion had cost him so much. He was drained physically, emotionally, and now his spirit was on the verge of being drained as well.  
  
McGee continued, "John, I know that your life as superhero doesn't leave a lot of room for friends and family, but do you think you could help us? I know how much this place once meant to you, so I..."  
  
Stewart didn't answer. His head fell a bit as he wrestled for the words to say. "How can I help these people when I'm not sure I can even help myself," he thought. He sighed, "Mr. McGee, Al, I don't think..."  
  
His reply was cut short as Pastor Sterling once again addressed the congregation. His head glistened as small beads of perspiration popped up along his brow. Although his head was draped completely in silver, the preacher had the energy of man half his age. Stewart remembered how he always welcomed him into his office to just talk. Many times they wouldn't say anything. Stewart would just sit in his office doing his homework. Moreover, Sterling made sure that the young man always had some change in his pocket.  
  
"Friends, recent events have tested our resolve, our commitment, and our faith. Yes, the loss of our building was devastating. Many of you have even wondered why God would allow such a horrible thing as that invasion to take place. Eventhough I can't give you a simple, easy answer, I can tell you that God has not left us nor forsaken us."  
  
Stewart listened intently as many in the congregation nodded their agreement with "amen". He looked around. Old and young alike sat riveted in the chairs. A newcomer might think that this tent was their normal meeting place.  
  
"I understand that many of you lost loved ones and friends during that horrible episode. We try to comprehend why things happen the way they do. When we can't, we get angry. We get angry at the ones who took our loved ones away. Mad at the loved ones for leaving. We even get upset with ourselves for being unable to prevent the situation from occurring. And when we really get down deep, I mean down beneath that phony exterior we like to show to the public. You know, the one where we make sure everyone thinks we're keepin' it real. Underneath all that, our anger is actually pointed at God."  
  
John Stewart's vision narrowed. He leaned uncomfortably forward in his chair.  
  
"I know that no one in here would ever admit to being mad at God. After all, how can you be mad at God? Yet, if we carefully examine our attitudes, we would discover that those 'O Lord, if only' statements make subtle accusations against God for not doing things the way we think best. But I believe that God can take even our worst pain, fears, and sorrows and still cause the Sun to shine on a cloudy day."  
  
Even as many in the congregation started shouting out praises, John Stewart's mind tortured itself. He remembered the anger at being tricked into providing information to the invaders. His heart broke at seeing his teammate fly into the arms of their leader as the Lantern was led away in chains. He cursed himself for being so gullible and trusting. His head pounded in confusion as she freed him out of his shackles and gave him back his ring. His excitement in defeating the alien adversaries and their winged captain quickly dissipated when he met her on that hilltop:  
  
"John, I'm so sorry for betraying the earth. I know everyone hates me  
now. So, I've decided to leave and never come back."  
  
"Not everyone hates you. I... I don't hate you."  
  
She caressed his cheek with her hand. Tears rolled down her face.  
"You have such a large heart, John Stewart. It should belong to  
someone worthy of it. Not someone who would break it."  
  
"I'm sure we can do something... work things out..."  
  
"No, Lantern. The damage has been done. It's time for me to go. But  
I want you to know the truth." She paused to fight back the sobs. "I  
don't love him, John. I love YOU."  
  
She turned her back to him and flew off into the clouds. He wanted to fly after her. He wanted to bring her back. But he stood still like a lifeless stone. He tried to sight her among those clouds but to no avail. He stood there. He just stood there. And for the first time since his mother died, John Stewart cried.  
  
Reverend Sterling continued. "Many of us feel our lives are as broken as that building across the way. We don't see any future or any hope. We stumble in complete darkness. There is no light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. BUT I have good news for you. There is a light for us. A light that penetrates all darkness. Turn in your Bibles to Psalm 119:105. Let us read together."  
  
Your word is a lamp to my feet  
And a light to my path  
  
John Stewart's eyes widened as heard the verse. Psalm 119:105. 119:105. Those were the numbers imprinted in his book. Psalm 119:105 was the first scripture he memorized as a child.  
  
"Normally, I don't do this. However, I see a face in the crowd that I've not seen in quite a while. As a boy, he and his mother would perform a piece for us. And if I could impose upon him, I think everyone here will be blessed. Brother Stewart, John, I hope you don't mind..."  
  
Stewart's eyes turned as big as saucers. Reverend Sterling couldn't want him to perform that song. How many years had it been? He sat there for what seemed and eternity. He felt every gaze knife through him. But how could he refuse? Pastor Sterling had never refused to help him no matter the circumstance or hour.  
  
He blinked twice as approached the old piano. Somehow it had survived the building's demise. It's once lustrous finish was badly faded. Several of the keys were chipped and or possessed cracks. No doubt that it probably could use a good tuning.  
  
As he settled onto the hard wooden bench, he felt that familiar hump in the middle. He chuckled to himself. That hump developed from the rather large frame of Brother Jones, the choir director. His grin quickly turned upside down as he lightly tapped the keys. He knew what song Pastor Sterling wanted him to perform. He and his mother would sing it every first Sunday. They would share the bench together. She played the melody. He played the rhythm.. Since his legs were too short to reach, she worked the foot pedals.  
  
He took a nervous breath and started playing. The congregation fell deathly quiet. He missed the notes on the first bar. He smiled wistfully as some in the chairs offered encouragement, "That's okay baby." "Take your time." "Help him, Lord."  
  
He flashed a quick look at Mr. Mcgee who slightly nodded. He took another breath, but as he reached to stroke the keys, he felt an odd presence. His memory quickly returned to watching his mother place his hands on the keys and guiding them to the correct chords.  
  
"John, let it go. Let it go," whispered a reassuring tone. "John, I love you. I always have and always will. Now let it go.  
  
He uttered a small prayer and began playing. His hands trembled as they massaged the keys, but he hit every note. The assembly started rocking slowly in their seats as they heard the piano ring out the timeless standard. John Stewart added to the ensemble. His bass voice strong and pure:  
  
Precious Lord, take my hand,  
  
Lead me on, let me stand,  
  
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn;  
  
Through the storm, through the night,  
  
Lead me on to the light:  
  
Take my hand, precious Lord,  
  
Lead me home.  
  
Al McGee watched. Tears slowly rolled down his reddened cheeks. His eyes closed as he listened to his beloved former student begin to find that peace he sought for so long. Unknown McGee, a slim figure took residence next to him  
  
"I never knew that he could play and sing," a voice startled McGee back to the fore.  
  
"Oh, yes... yes! It's been so long! Whatever happened during the invasion really hurt him. I think tonight he will finally be at peace."  
  
"I hope so. I hope so," the figure said under its breath.  
  
McGee turned to get a better view of his conversation mate. A full scarf covered its head, and dark glasses obscured the eyes.  
  
"Do you know, John?"  
  
The figure didn't respond; it's vision fixed upon Stewart.  
  
When my way grows drear,  
  
Precious Lord, linger near,  
  
When my life is almost gone,  
  
At the river I stand,  
  
Guide my feet, hold my hand:  
  
Take my hand, precious Lord,  
  
Lead me home.  
  
As the final note faded into the night, John Stewart rested his hands on the piano and sobbed uncontrollably. There were no dry eyes in the tent. Pastor Sterling and Al McGee went to the piano and wrapped comforting arms around the supine hero. McGee glanced back to his seat, but the slim figure was already headed for the exit. In the figure's seat he spotted a small bird. McGee smiled to himself. All would indeed be well for John. 


	9. Welcome Home

WELCOME HOME  
  
She spotted the light in the open window. He hadn't changed one iota. She suppressed a tight smile. When would John ever change? Well, tonight, such carelessness might cost him dearly. She swooped through the opening. Surveying his surroundings, she couldn't help but snicker a little bit. Everything remained the same since her last visit with the only difference being a large table in the corner opposite his exercise equipment. Papers and books laid scattered across the table. A lamp overhead the table highlighted a particular set of papers.  
  
Detecting no sign of the resident, she walked over to the table. A large sheet of paper captured her sight. Lines and angles crisscrossed its length and breadth. Upon further examination, the words "WatchTower II" focused her attention. The drawing on the paper looked resembled the first satellite, yet there were subtle differences. One detail immediately jumped out at her. The signature of the person who conceived the sketch forced a grin on her lips: John Stewart.  
  
As she picked up the layout for an even closer going over, a book shot into view. She placed the drawings to side and gripped it. She could already tell that this book was far removed from being new. Although only the outline of the letters on the cover remained, she read the title: HOLY BIBLE. Her mouth twitched as she studied the book. John Stewart's language at times would attest that he was anything but a religious person. Yet, after all he encountered in the past several weeks, she blamed him not for seeking solace in words of faith.  
  
She prepared to replace the book to its spot, when a chain dangled in her view. She traced its path and opened the front cover of the Bible to reveal its full measure. Her gaze widened as she gathered in the chain and examined the object at the end. Her fingers danced over it shape and felt the little button. Depressing the button, the locket split to reveal a small photo inside. The woman possessed striking beauty. Her rich, dark complexion, enhanced by large brown eyes, immediately conveyed a feeling of warmth and compression. Standing just in front of her at about shoulder's height, a young man, whose face mirrored the same eyes as the woman, flashed a pearly expression. The stranger quickly recognized the sparkle in the boy's eyes. She had no doubt about the pair's identity: John and his mother. She gently closed the locket and eyed the inscription on the back:  
  
"To my little hero, I love you! Mother"  
  
She put the locket back inside the front cover. As she started to close the book, she saw a small, thin object sticking out from the middle of the pages. She turned to the marked section. She removed the object and let out a small gasp. Another photograph stared back at her. She knew the smiling couple in the photo. Their faces glowed with the warmth and security of two people who found completion in each other. She flipped the picture over and read the handwritten message:  
  
"For my big, strong hero, I love you!"  
  
Those last three words struck her like lightening! Her heart crumbled at the memory of how often she wanted to say those very words. John had no difficulty in saying them to her. How often she tried to espouse just how deep her emotions ran! Yet she lacked the fortitude to form them on her lips. Every time they spoke of a future together, she would laugh it off or change the subject. She knew he loved her. Why couldn't she just admit the same to him? She traced the handsome man's image with her fingertip. If love showed mercy to her, she would risk everything to communicate how strongly she loved him.  
  
She closed the Bible and returned it to the original resting place. A small yellow piece of paper drew her notice. She originally gave no thought to the sticky, but curiosity always overwhelmed her good judgment. As she scanned the contents, her heart sank.  
  
"No, no, I can't believe she's back! I hoped... I hoped..." she breathed in shallow whispers.  
  
John:  
I'm sorry for not contacting you earlier. I know that this is going  
to be difficult for you. I want you to know how much I care about  
you. I want nothing more than for you to be happy. I understand that  
it will take time for you to be at peace. I'm willing to wait for  
however long that maybe. I truly hope that we can re-start and re-  
store what we once shared...  
  
She dropped the note as if stricken. What a fool she had been. Her head reeled as she read the note again. Perhaps she had misinterpreted what was written. A second scan yielded no happier results.  
  
As she turned from the table heading to the window for a final exit, she took one last longing gaze at the book with the picture. She desperately rummaged through the pages and quickly snatched the picture from its post. She wanted to crumple it, stomp it, and then burn it, but all she did was trace the man's face with her fingertip. She measured each contour as if preparing to make a bust of him in the clay of her memory. She closed the Bible, but kept the picture in her hand.  
  
She started for the window again without looking back. As she started lifting off, a resounding bass voice shuddered through her bones.  
  
"You are not going to even say good-bye?"  
  
"How long have you been spying on me," she spat masking her sorrow with anger.  
  
"Not long. Not long," his voice soothed.  
  
Her heart melted as she looked upon his flawless dark complexion. His eyes displayed the same warmth and compassion as his mother's. Yet he had a different aura about him. She slightly raised her eyebrows as she regarded the mustache and the few hints of gray around the temples. She tried not admit it, but he looked even better than in their last close encounter.  
  
"I don't know why I came here. Obviously, you've worked things out and have decided to take up things with..."  
  
He followed her eyes as her head quickly glanced at the drafting table. "I see. So, you really believe that I could just ignore all that has occurred between us... that I could just trip my emotions on and off like a light switch. I don't believe that and neither do you!"  
  
She raised her voice to keep from crying. "I know what I read! She can't wait to get you for herself and re-live old times!" She spun around trying to hide the tears.  
  
She heard him take a step towards her. She bowed her head. She didn't want to face him. She wanted no part of the sweetly brutal confrontation that each step brought closer to reality. She knew that his arms would comfort her. She knew that deep voice would buckle her knees. She knew that just the slightest touch would break all her resolve.  
  
"John, I can't. You can't. We can't..."  
  
"I can. You can. Most importantly, we can."  
  
She felt his final step approaching. She whirled back around as if to spring to the attack. Instead, she reached up a trembling hand and slowly traced his features with her fingers. She closed her eyes and let the smoothness of his skin, the tickle of his mustache, and the softness of his lips develop his image in her mind.  
  
He slowly leaned his head into her palm and kissed her wrist. He moved his head up and kissed her palm and then each finger.  
  
She inched closer to him and finally fell into his chest. An emotional dam burst forth from her eyes and mouth. "I'm so sorry, John. I'm so sorry! How can you ever forgive me?"  
  
"I forgave you the same night I forgave myself." He cupped her chin and stared deep into her soul. "Now you have to forgive yourself."  
  
She hugged him tighter and sobbed as she buried the past behind her. He gently stroked her hair and rocked her slowly. After a few minutes, she backed up from him. From her her hand she produced the picture. "Do you remember this?"  
  
"Of course, I do. I've kept in the safest spot I know."  
  
"Do you know what it says on the back?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"John, I made you read what I should have said a long time ago. Now, I want you to hear me say it: John Stewart, I love you."  
  
He remained silent for a few moments as he replayed her message in his head. John pulled the woman close to his body so she would feel his warmth. He looked down on her expectant face and lightly stroked her cheek. Then, he closed his eyes and smiled.  
  
"I love you, too. Welcome home, Shayera, welcome home."  
  
A/N: MY HEART FELT GRATITUDE TO ALL WHO TOOK THE TIME TO READ AND REVIEW MY DOCUMENT. GRACE AND PEACE TO EACH OF YOU. 


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